


How did it end up like this?

by BlackBlood1872



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: (second kiss lol), First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Galo Thymos Has ADHD, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Living Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Injuries, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26464243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackBlood1872/pseuds/BlackBlood1872
Summary: It wasn't a kiss.Galo tells himself this, very firmly, every time his thoughts drift back to that terrifying moment in the Burnish engine. It wasn’t a kiss, because he hadn’t been thinking like that at all, in that moment. The only thing he wanted was for Lio towake up.
Relationships: Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Comments: 10
Kudos: 188





	How did it end up like this?

**Author's Note:**

> I just... really wanted to write a kiss. I've done so many established relationship or get together fics and there's never an on-the-mouth kiss. And that's fine! That's still valid! But I _want_ to write a kiss. So I started this with that goal in mind. Still took me over 3k words to get there... Enjoy the pining and fluff I guess XD
> 
> (Extra warnings in the end notes)

It wasn't a kiss.

Galo tells himself this, very firmly, every time his thoughts drift back to that terrifying moment in the Burnish engine. It wasn't a kiss. Lio had been—unconscious and mostly dead and it had been an attempt at _resuscitation_ , not anything—even _remotely_ romantic or sentimental. Well. Maybe a little sentimental, because he didn't want Lio to die; he desperately wanted Lio to wake up, to look at him with his clear, burning eyes, his fierce determination. He hated the sight of Lio laying there, skin almost grey and flaking away to dissolve into the air; his eyes closed and lips ever so slightly parted, slack in dea—

No. It wasn't a kiss, because he hadn't been thinking like that at all, in that moment. The only thing he wanted was for Lio to _wake up_.

And he had. The fire he'd given to Galo, the one that saved his life, returned in full and just enough to relight the spark within him. That was the first fire he ever lit, and it's one he will never regret. One he will never hesitate to light again, if he needs to.

And it _hadn't been a kiss_ , no matter how many times he finds himself thinking like that. No matter how many times he remembers those fraught moments, the seconds that stretched into eternity, Lio's lips plaint and ever so slightly chapped against his, that first, glorious little gasp when that spark caught and ignited into life—

It wasn't a kiss. But Galo can't stop thinking about it and wondering: what would it be like, to kiss Lio for real? Would his lips feel the same, or softer, smooth without risk of crumbling to ash? Or fiercer, meeting him with his typical tenacity, pushing into his space and _demanding_ all that he had to give and more, a battle like the ones they fought before, against and with each other?

Galo wants to find out. He wants to experience all the different ways Lio could kiss him, quick pecks as one of them leaves for work, heated snogs on the couch (or elsewhere), chaste and gentle caresses during quiet moments when the world is too far away to worry about. Lazy kisses, open-mouthed and breathing the same air, in the hazy minutes before or after sleep. He wants to find out where else Lio might kiss him, where else he'd like to be kissed. His shoulder, his wrist, the spot where his jaw meets his neck.

This longing he feels is a physical ache, a hook in his navel drawing him ever back to Lio's side. It takes his breath every time he sees this man, whatever he's doing. Helping with rescue and cleanup, overexerted with his hair tied back and sweat beading his forehead, trailing down his skin. Relaxed and loose on the couch, reading or watching TV or just dozing in the quiet afternoon. Standing at his side in the kitchen, helping him cook and laughing at whatever dumb joke Galo told this time.

Every time, there's a moment where he can imagine himself acting. Can feel the urge to step in close, to cross the space between them. To kiss that smiling mouth and discover anew what it's like for them to become as one. He wants to know how Lio tastes.

He wants, more desperately than he ever has before. Wants to feel the warmth of Lio's body next to his, wants to thread his fingers through his hair and see if it really is as silky smooth as it looks. Wants to wake up next to him and watch the sunrise paint his skin in the glow of a fire he's since lost, but still carries in all other ways. Galo wants to stare into his eyes for hours, memorize every color and shade until all he knows is _Lio_.

He's never been in love before, but he thinks this must be what it's like.

* * *

Lio's memory of the fight is fragmented. He remembers overhauling the Deus X Machina into their own Lio de Galon, remembers fighting Kray, remembers failing. He remembers being helpless to do anything as that man took him to the heart of the Parnassus, as he strung Lio up like a marionette, barbed wire digging into his flesh and spilling even more blood on the floor.

Lio remembers pain as the energy of all the trapped Promare rushed through him, his bones and veins and very essence a conduit for the Parnassus' engine. He remembers the numbness as his skin cracked and peeled and drifted away, ash in the wind. And then he remembers nothing, for seconds or hours or years. It had been dark, and quiet, and nothing hurt.

He remembers waking up again, skin still numb in places, the staticky feeling of pins and needles in others. He remembers feeling warm breath on his face, and then opening his eyes to see Galo leaning over him, smile wide and eyes bright, so relieved it hurt in an entirely different way.

"You made it," he'd said then, voice raw and tender and so full of emotion that Lio couldn't stand it. He felt fragile, in that moment, held in Galo's arms and only seconds removed from death. If he tried to understand and acknowledge the weight behind Galo's words, he'd surely shatter to pieces.

There was so much left to do. It was easy to push aside the feeling he couldn't unpack, the tingle in his lips, the patches of skin that cried out when they stood and he lost contact with Galo. It helped, a little, when he stumbled and Galo automatically slid into place beside him, arm around his waist and bare skin against his, hip to chest. Lio wrapped his arm around Galo's neck, and tired not to imagine moving closer, pulling the man in and making the phantom touch on his mouth a reality.

They would have time for that later, if the impulse still lingered. Lio still isn't sure if he wants it to.

Not that _uncertainty_ changes the desire that fills his heart any time he catches sight of Galo, burning brightly in that unique way of his. His smile, dazzling in the dying light as he hands out plate after plate of food to victims and volunteers alike. The absolute resolve in his eyes as he clears rubble or helps reconstruct another building. Even the moments of peace fill him with that ache for more, the moments when Galo lets himself settle into stillness, eyes closed and face tilted up towards the sky. He looks unburdened, then, content in a way Lio isn't sure he's ever felt, himself. He finds he wants to. He wants to live in a world where he has moments like this, where the world is safe enough to feel like everything he's done has meaning, has changed something for the better, and that he can bask in that serenity. That he is allowed to rest, and know that nothing will shatter apart while he does so.

And he wants to share those moments with Galo, to exist next to him in the silence. To know that he is welcome there, in Galo's life and by his side and, possibly, in his heart. Lio would like that.

So many of his goals are out of reach now. This doesn't have to be one of them. This dream, he thinks, is something he can have.

* * *

After, there isn't a discussion about where Lio's going to stay. They both know there are only so many shelters set up for those displaced by the crash of the Parnassus, Burnish or otherwise. Lio hates the idea of taking a space that someone else can use, and Galo doesn't even question it when Lio follows him home.

He takes the couch, because he's small and it actually makes for a pretty comfortable bed, all things considered. And also because, for all that he desperately wants to kiss Galo, he knows that sharing his bed is definitely crossing a line. He has an idea of how he might react to waking up next to Galo, sleep soft and cast in golden sunlight, and he doesn't think he'd have the strength to resist.

So he takes the couch, and he works from dawn to dusk with everyone else to clean up the disaster site. He has no idea how to pilot any of Burning Rescue's tech, so he's relegated to social duties. Consoling his fellow Burnish, finding the families of those who fell to Kray's Machiavellianisms. Helping out at the tent the food bank and other volunteers set up. It doesn't feel like enough, but every smile he manages to coax out of this crowd of disheveled people reveals that he's doing _something_. And maybe, eventually, it'll all add up to the mythical _enough_.

When Lio gets home (and he isn't sure when Galo's flat became _home_ , if there was ever a time when it _wasn't_ ), more often than not he's too exhausted to do more than change and fall into bed. Galo, with his endless energy, usually wakes him an hour later with something easy to eat. It's… nice, being taken care of like this. Having someone who wants him around, who worries about his health and wellbeing, who doesn't mind Lio slumping against him as he eats, half asleep and barely cognizant. Galo is warm, and even though Lio doesn't feel noticeably colder these days, it's still nice to soak in that heat, to feel the pressure of another human being beside him.

He heard about it once, ‘skin hunger’, a former nurse worrying about everyone's mental health, so far removed from society as the Burnish were. She was the one who suggested they reach out as much as they could, find friends and family within their mismatched community, always have someone there to keep the itch under their skin from consuming them. It had almost overwhelmed Lio, those first few weeks he spent with them. Everyone was so close, and he'd been alone for so long before then. He had forgotten how cold he was, even with the fire burning deep in his chest, until Gueira threw his arm around his shoulders and goosebumps raised all over his skin. They'd had to go slowly, accumulating him to their unabashed affection. Hands ruffling his hair for bare seconds at a time, the light press of a hand between his shoulders. Hands held around the bonfire. It took time, so much time and effort, but eventually it was no big deal for him to squeeze between Gueira and Meis, be held for hours at a time, feeling truly warm for the first time in forever.

It's different now, with Galo, without the Promare. He feels human in a different way, a distinction that he can't put into words and doesn't think he'll ever be able to. He's always been human, but it's like music, maybe, the shift from minor to major key. It's the same notes, the same melody, but brighter. Dawn breaking after a midnight storm.

He falls asleep like that, more often than he thinks he should. He wakes laying down, pillow under his head and blankets wrapped snugly around him, dishes cleared away. Lio tries to imagine the course of events: him dozing off on Galo's shoulder, Galo standing very carefully, gently lowering him onto the couch and rearranging him so he's as comfortable as possible. Pulling the blanket up to his chin and tucking in the edges. His fingers brushing Lio's hair away from his face, combing out the tangles, a soft adoration on his face. Lio's cheek tingles at the thought, the path his fingers would take along his skin. Wishful thinking, probably. But it feels nice to imagine it, like champagne bubbles in his stomach.

He deserves nice things. That's something he's really starting to believe, here and now, free to simply _be_.

* * *

It seems inevitable, really, that a building will finally decide to fall down while they're working in it. It's happened before, with buildings that construction teams can _tell_ are a danger. Those are only ever handled with the mechs, and their destruction directed along the path of least harm.

This building seemed safe. That's why they allowed volunteers into the ground floor, squishy humans working alongside a few of the smaller suits. A lot of them are repurposed Anti-Burnish tech, Lio's amused to notice. He's getting used to the new way of things, but there are still moments when everything just feels so surreal.

He's just starting to wheel out a full barrow of debris when he hears a shout from further inside, followed close enough to drown out the words by a groan of metal and wood so loud Lio can feel it in his bones. His breath catches—he knows that sound. He's heard it so many times before, layered under the crackle and shriek of flame. This building is coming down.

"Everybody _out!_ " he yells, injecting as much Mad Burnish Leader as he can into his voice. The people nearest him stumble over their feet, moving before their minds can fully comprehend what they're doing. The pilots are quick to copy him, barking orders and outright grabbing some people who are closest to the point of collapse.

Sand and chunks of cement fall from the ceiling around them, and the air quality rapidly worsens. He coughs, trying to clear out the dust, and then can't stop coughing. It punches out of him and his ribs ache, his lungs burn. Another volunteer loops their arm around his shoulders and steers him towards the exit, asking frantic questions that he can't hear over the deafening throb in his head.

Outside isn't much better. Plumes of dust billow out of the structure, great clouds that turn the world into shades of brown and grey, choking out the air. More people in mobile suits direct bystanders away, coordinate to get everyone out. Lio can barely hear them. He can't stop coughing. His eyes water and the dust stings, grinding against every inch of exposed skin.

Someone touches his shoulder, lightly, attempting not to startle. Lio squints open his eyes and can only just make out the cloth tied around this woman's arm, bright against the dust. One of their many medics, though whether she's licensed or simply knowledgeable, Lio doesn't know. He doesn't recognize her as a former Burnish, at any rate.

She directs him off to the side of the courtyard where other medics are working with other injured volunteers. He's set up in his own little space within the chaos, sitting on a chunk of rubble, and then she's gone again, looking for more wanderers, no doubt. He can't focus on his surroundings very well, everything narrowed down to the coughs racking his body.

Another hand lands on his shoulder. He's aware enough to discern some sort of pattern here.

"Lio?" this new person asks. He recognizes their voice as belonging to one of the medically trained among the Burnish community. Clove, an A&E nurse who woke in the middle of a particularly hectic shift. Lio never learned all the details, and he never pressed. He's glad they've gotten the chance to use their skills again.

Lio manages to breathe slowly enough to say their name, confirm he's listening, before one bad inhale sets him off again.

"Easy, easy," Clove murmurs. They press something into his hand and he grips it, weakly, only keeping hold of it because they haven't let go yet. "Water will help. Drink it _slowly_ ," they stress, "and try not to inhale any. Your lungs are going to be making a lot of phlegm to clear out the dust. We don't have enough tissues for everyone, so you'll have to make do with a rag. Here." They set a small bundle of cloth in his lap, and maneuver his arm so he's holding the water bottle there as well.

The next however many minutes are miserable, spent drinking water and coughing up globs of grey-streaked mucus, his body quivering from the abuse. Lio has no way to tell the time; no watch, no phone, the sun still concealed by the concrete dust floating through the air. It could be eight minutes or thirty. All he knows is that his chest _aches_. He's never missed the Promare more; they could have burned the dust from his system before it ever reached his lungs and spared him from this torment.

The dust cloud settles slowly. Lio isn't entirely sure when it finally clears, just that the grey film over the sky gradually disappears until he realizes, suddenly, that he can see the wide expanse of blue again. It's a welcome sight, like some sort of good omen: the going is tough, but the result is worth it. No matter how terrible the present, the future is bright.

He thinks his head is spinning too much to think about the symbolism of this event. He drinks more water, his empty bottle having been switched out by Clove a little while ago. He remembers it happening, but can't tell how long ago it was. He wonders how long this disorientation will linger.

More time passes. His coughing tapers off until it's little more than the usual response to a sore throat. Around him, others seem to be in similar states. The drum beat of his pulse fades out of his hearing, replaced by the general noise of a large crowd. Lio closes his eyes.

" _Lio!_ "

The sound of his name cuts loudly over the cacophony of frazzled volunteers. Lio looks up just in time to see Galo, frantic and panting, racing through the crowd. He's trying his best not to bowl people over but is mostly accomplishing that by scaring them out of the way. A second after, Galo's in front of him, and then he's being hauled into his arms and hugged within an inch of his life. Lio wheezes then coughs out something that could be considered a laugh. He pats Galo's back a bit desperately.

Thankfully, Galo loosens his hold enough that he can breathe again. He does so, sucking in a lungful of fresh, clean air.

"I'm fine, I'm alright," he assures. Galo doesn't look ready to believe him, his forehead pinched in concern.

"You scared me," he whispers, and it's a shock, as it always is, to hear this man so quiet. Lio will always believe that Galo isn't meant to be small.

"It was just a little building collapse," Lio tries to joke. "Nothing I couldn't handle."

Galo laughs, a pale, shaky facsimile of his usual grandeur. He has a look about him as if he were the one inside an unstable building, as if _he_ was the one to narrowly avoid a messy death. Lio tries to imagine how he would be reacting, were their positions reversed, and finds his heart skipping a beat, fear making his hands shake. He thinks he would be a wreck, too, if he found out he almost lost one of the most important people in his life.

He didn't, though. Neither of them have, not today. He survived, and maybe he's shaken but he's _alive_. That's what matters.

Galo pulls him close again, as if he needs to hold Lio together before he breaks apart. Lio laughs, a breath of a sound, and hugs him back. Galo exhales slowly, and ducks to press his lips to the top of Lio's head. "Just… be careful. Please," he says, words muffled by Lio's hair.

 _Oh_ , Lio thinks. He hugs Galo a little tighter, hiding whatever soft expression he's making in the other man's chest. It might not mean what he thinks it does, but… Galo isn't touchy. He seems like he should be, but he doesn't touch his friends, doesn't hang off them like he does Lio. Certainly doesn't kiss them, however chaste this one is.

It means something, with Lio. He thinks he's finally allowing himself to realize what it is.

* * *

They head home once the sun starts to set, despite Galo's many insistences that Lio go back sooner. Lio was fine, though, once the medics help clear his airways of the dust. He hadn't been hit by any debris, and he was well away from the fall when it happened. He was fine to work and so he did, closing his ears to Galo's protests and concern.

Eventually, though, the rest of the volunteers drift away and he no longer has anything to prove. So he lets Galo herd him away, and thinks about his plans for the evening. He has a goal in mind, but he isn't sure which path he's going to take to get there.

Lio watches Galo as they walk back to their apartment. The dying sun paints his features in dark orange and shadow, striking in their newfound simplicity. He looks softer, like he usually does, all his excess energy worked out by a day in constant motion. When he notices Lio staring, he turns to smile at him, slow and content. Lio smiles back, involuntary, inexorable.

Well. He's always favored a direct approach.

They reach Galo's flat after a few minutes. Lio enters first and turns around once he's in the living room. Galo takes a little longer, locking up, but soon he's in sight. Lio steps up to him, their chests almost touching. His hands land on Galo's forearms, a tentative touch. Galo takes a breath.

"Is this okay?" Lio asks, quiet, as if any louder would shatter the moment. Galo's eye as wide, cheeks slowly turning pink. He licks his lips and Lio drops his gaze.

"Is… is what…?" he tries, swaying forward before forcing himself back again. Lio smiles, copying the motion.

"Can I kiss you, Galo?"

" _Yes_ ," Galo says, already moving. Their noses bump together, at first, and Lio tilts his head to compensate.

For all his enthusiasm, it isn't a harsh kiss. It's surprisingly chaste, actually, a quick series of tentative brushes, barely any pressure. Lio expected urgency from his friend, expected him to rush in like he does with everything else. This is nice, though. Lio hums, running his hands up Galo's arms, elbow to shoulder. Galo draws back to sigh, then leans in again, like gravitational pull, pressing a smile against Lio's. It's harder to kiss like that, but Lio definitely isn't complaining.

They separate a finally time and Lio sinks into Galo's arms, cheek against his collarbone. He slips his arms around Galo's waist, and Galo's wrap around his shoulders, warm and sheltering. Lio closes his eyes and relaxes in the companionable silence.

Galo breaks it some time later by blurting out: "I think I'm in love with you."

Lio blinks. He leans away to look up into Galo's wide eyes. He looks like he didn't entirely mean to say that out loud. Lio just stares for a long moment, long enough that Galo's gaze slips away to land on his ear and he starts to fidget with the collar of Lio's shirt.

Lio smiles, then, bringing up one hand to cup Galo's cheek, fingers brushing over the buzzed sides of his head. He gently pulls them closer to whisper against Galo's mouth, " _I think_ I love you too."

A blinding smile blooms on Galo's face. He bridges the gap to seal the word "good" between their lips.

Perhaps not the most eloquent reaction. But Lio agrees: this is _very_ good.

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning: In part 4 a building collapses while Lio and others are helping with clean up/reconstruction. Lio himself doesn't get hurt worse than inhaling a lot of dust and coughing for like, the entire time, but injuries are mentioned.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
